White Elephant
by Hutchie
Summary: An old house, Bodie, and Doyle.


**White elephant**

by Allie

800 words

Two dark-haired men stood by a car on a lost and lonely section of the coast, arms crossed, regarding an old stone house overlooking the sea.

"It's beautiful," said the man with curly hair.

"Oh come on, Doyle. Even a sensitive artist's soul like yours can't make this old wreck into a work of art!" said the man with straight hair.

Doyle had a dreamy look in his green eyes. "Makes me wish I could paint."

"You used to. You could."

"Yeah, if I want it to turn out looking like a five-year-old got stuck in the finger paint. Seriously, Bodie, it's really nice. You're really going to sell it?"

"Course I'm going to sell it. Nothing but an old shack, isn't it?"

"Hardly. It's looking out over the sea! And examine that stonework." Doyle gestured to it expansively. "Lots of texture and history here. You could fix it up, spend your holidays out here, Bodie."

Bodie gaped at him. "Spend my holidays in the middle of nowhere? You must be joking, mate! Better to sell it and stay in a nice place in London. Anyway, who wants to own a piece of history? History belongs in old books."

Doyle crossed his arms. "You've got no taste."

"_I've_ got no taste? Who's the one drooling over a musty old building, then?"

Doyle shook his curly head. "Still can't believe you had it all these years, and never told me!"

"Only three," muttered Bodie. "Not such a great inheritance."

"It's perfect. If you fixed it up and stayed here, you'd probably get the best sleep of your life. Long walks, sea air to give you an appetite—"

"Gets any bigger and I'll eat a horse. C'mon, Ray, it's a white elephant!"

"Hardly." Doyle shook his head. "And I can't believe you're going to sell it." He walked towards the house, eyes never leaving it, undeterred by the unkempt exterior and broken window.

"Do you want to see inside?" asked Bodie, watching him.

Doyle turned back, smile broadening. "Of course."

"I have to sort through the furniture anyway. Probably have to pay to haul most of it away for firewood, but there might be a piece or two..."

He used his key. It took both of them pushing to get the door open the first time. Dust, cobwebs, spiders, an angry, disturbed nesting bird, and running shadows that looked suspiciously like rats greeted them. Finally the men occupied the little house alone, or more or less alone, and gazed around at the dilapidated insides.

"Needs a lot of work," said Doyle, scuffing a foot on the thick dust. He walked over to an old wooden chair with no seat and set it upright. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up at the wood and rusting, metal roof.

"Ought to be knocked down. Ach-oo." Bodie drew a handkerchief and blew his nose. "Gets right up my hooter..." he muttered.

Doyle plucked his arm and the two left the house together. "How much d'you think it's worth?" asked Doyle casually.

"Ray, you're not buying it from me."

Doyle turned an offended glare on him. "What makes you think—"

"Because I can read you like a book, can't I? If you buy it, you'll want a discount. But you can't afford that 'lovely sea view and fresh air' even with a discount. Besides, you'd expect me to help you fix it up—for free!" He smiled cheekily to soften the words. "C'mon old son—be sensible."

Doyle said "Hmph," and turned away, shoving his hands in his pockets. He didn't seem to have a comeback at the ready.

Bodie watched him for a moment.

"Ray," said Bodie at last.

"What?"

Bodie took a deep breath. "If I hold off selling it another year, you can spend a holiday here. Help me fix it up, and have all the fresh air you want."

Doyle looked at him suspiciously. "Really?"

Bodie smiled and nodded. "Really, mate. Probably get a better price if we clean it up ourselves. One condition, though."

Doyle's eyes narrowed. "What?"

Bodie waved a finger at him, grinning. "You have to dig out those paints and have a go."

Doyle grabbed his finger and pushed it down. "Go on, you," he growled, but he was trying not to smile.

"Seriously, Ray. Paint the old monstrosity. Or... I could just sell it." He raised one eyebrow dramatically, trying to look serious but still smirking a bit.

Doyle ducked his head, grinning. "Probably look awful..."

"Let me be the judge of that." He threw an arm over Doyle's shoulders, and sketched grandly in the air with his other hand. "So, next holiday..."

They walked back to the car, to the sound of wind and sea, and Bodie's cheerful voice making plans.

Written for a prompt on Tea and Swiss Rolls LJ community.

Pic prompt: old house + word prompt: Holiday

Originally posted here: . (click to see picture)


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